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Shael looked out at a leafy glade set about with white-painted beehives. And the air was alive with their humming.

CHAPTER 6
The three marauders had thought that dawn would be a good time for their raid. The spider-web-thin trip lines had tipped the skep over, virtually on top of them. Shael and Mamma Mae were already up, getting the fire ready to melt the beeswax for the candle molds. It was a task they wanted done before the day grew too hot, and made it unpleasant in the kitchen. The sound of screaming came in through the open window. They ran to bolt and latch the doors and windows. Whoever the bees were after might otherwise run for the house, bringing the angry swarm with them. It was nearly an hour later that the bee master came back to the house, carrying the unconscious man. Baer’s normally placid face was grim. He sighed as he put the man down on the settle. “One of t’others with him is dead in the pond. Drowned himself trying to keep down. The other one run off wi’ half a hive behind him. I don’t like th’ look of this, lasses. Them were armed for trouble, but they don’t have the ragamuffin look o’ hill bandits or deserters. Look you. This one’s wearin’ a fine golden ring.” For him, it was a mighty long speech. In the last nine